Connect the Dots
by smurftoes
Summary: Ever wonder exactly how Blaine got from his BIOTA/Sexy cluelessness to his epiphany in Original Songs? Here's my take... Rated T for frank discussion of adult themes. Really, it'll be mostly fluffy.
1. Chapter 1: Sexified

"Sexified…" Kurt shivered a little just remembering the way Blaine said that word—as if he was truly excited by the prospect. Kurt, on the other hand, was terrified. He wasn't sure why the Warblers needed to be sexier, anyway—as far as he was concerned, every performance with Blaine as the lead was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Blaine seemed to have a natural talent for making love to an audience with his eyes. But, he couldn't very well use that logic to dissuade Blaine, (_" you single-handedly sexify the Warblers way beyond anything I saw in New Directions. We don't have to worry…"),_ so now he was stuck trying to figure out how to be sexy for their impromptu performance of "Animal."

Kurt had never thought about being sexy. Glamorous, maybe. Elegant, sure. But sexy? Were sixteen year old boys supposed to know how to be sexy?

He sat a school computer, silently giving thanks for all the SafeSearch filters on the web-browser, and typed in "Sexy Animal." As images began loading, he winced. There were a whole lot more boobs on the screen than he expected, but at least they were covered, mostly with leopard print spandex. He tried to ignore all the exposed skin and focus on poses and facial expressions. When he stumbled on a photo of what looked like an elephant mask, only it wasn't on someone's face, it was hanging off a guy's hips, Kurt quickly hit the home button and started over.

And that's when inspiration hit. Sexy. Animal. Kurt typed "Cats musical" into the search engine and began studying the photos from musical productions all over the world. Granted, with all the make-up it was a little hard to tell exactly what facial expressions these actors were making, but it was a place to start.

* * *

Blaine felt especially flattered to get phone numbers because he knew "Animal" had not been his best performance. He'd been completely distracted by Kurt. He'd never seen Kurt perform like this before. Kurt usually blended seamlessly into the Warblers' choreography, but today he stuck out like a sore thumb.

It wasn't all bad. Blaine was partly distracted by how cute Kurt looked when his dancing was loose and playful, but the expressions on his face made it look like he was in pain the whole time. Was he that nervous about finally having some solo lines?

In any case, he was glad Kurt was still primping when the girls left, so he could find out what was up.

"Are you okay? You kept making these weird faces all through the song..."

"Those weren't weird faces. Those were my sexy faces." Kurt looked so pleased with himself that Blaine winced a little. This was embarassing.

"It just looked like you were having gas pains or something." Why didn't Kurt realize he didn't need to try so hard to be sexy? Blaine just didn't get it. Didn't Kurt know? Sexy is having the self-respect to confront a friend about his shameless flirting and call it what it is. Sexy is pulling off leather pants in a well-lit room. Sexy is having the courage to be yourself, no matter what. Kurt was hands-down the sexiest person Blaine had ever met, and here he was, thinking he had to make squinchy faces to be sexy?

"Great. How are we supposed to get up on the stage at regionals and sell "sexy" to the judges when I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby penguin!" Blaine did not miss the fact that Kurt was now avoiding eye contact. He couldn't believe how stupid this was. Now Kurt thought he had no sexual appeal? This was definitely movement in the wrong direction.

When he replied, "We'll figure something out," Blaine had no idea _what_ they would figure out, but he knew he wanted to fix this, somehow.

On the way to Kurt's house after school, Blaine briefly considered helping Kurt access his sexy by making him _feel_ sexy. He caught himself imagining what it might feel like to kiss Kurt—to hold his neck and mess up his hair just a little. _No!_ he thought, _that wouldn't be fair to Kurt. Kurt has basically accused me of leading him on already, and kissing him now would definitely be crossing that line, again._ At least, that's what Blaine thought Kurt had been saying on Valentine's Day. He'd analyzed it a lot—way too much, probably—and while Kurt's actual words had been "I _thought_ the guy you wanted to ask out on Valentine's Day was me," Blaine was pretty sure (mostly sure) that what Kurt really meant was, "I hoped it was me," or maybe even "I wanted it to be me."

So, ever since Valentine's Day, Blaine had been worried about sending Kurt the wrong signals, because, as much as he cared about Kurt (and he really did—more than anyone), Kurt just wasn't his type. Blaine knew his type: strong, confident, a straight-talker. Someone who could access his emotions, but wasn't controlled by them. Someone with a sense of humor and a good laugh. Blaine knew that he could kind of be a brat, sometimes—Wes and David never let him forget it—and he wanted to be with someone strong enough to call him out on that—someone who would be kind and gentle, but also wouldn't let him get away with acting like the worst version of himself.

And Kurt… well, besides the fact that Blaine couldn't get past the feeling that Kurt was fragile—that he might crumble at any moment under the wrong look, and that his own job was to protect Kurt from the harsh, dangerous world—besides that, it kind of felt like Kurt worshipped the ground he walked on, and while it was flattering, it wasn't what Blaine was looking for in a boyfriend. Blaine wanted to be with someone who was strong enough to handle his flaws.

And last week, when Blaine exposed some of those flaws by kissing and then "dating" Rachel, it sure didn't seem like Kurt could handle it. He still wanted Blaine to be his perfect gay jedi-master. If Blaine was perfectly honest with himself, the part of his argument with Kurt that hurt him the most was when he asked Kurt why he was so angry and Kurt's response was, "Because I look up to you." If Kurt had said it was simple jealousy, he could have handled that. He would have been flattered, and he may have even canceled that stupid date to protect Kurt's feelings. But no. Kurt was upset because Blaine wasn't living up to the perfect gay-mentor role. If that's how Kurt reacted when Blaine let his walls down and exposed his own insecurities and confusion, then Kurt was not the guy Blaine was looking for.

So, kissing Kurt was most definitely out of the question. If Kurt needed him to be a perfect mentor, well, that's just what he would have to be: Jedi-master to the rescue.

And Blaine was quite confident that he could handle this lesson—Kurt, after all, didn't really need to learn how to be sexy—he just needed more confidence that he already _was_ sexy. The trick would be helping Kurt gain that confidence without sending Kurt the wrong message.

As he thought back to all the times when he'd seen Kurt be sexy, his thoughts lingered on some of the looks Kurt threw over his shoulder when they practiced "Baby, It's Cold Outside" before Christmas. How could he get Kurt to recapture those looks—those come-hither side-glances? That would definitely be the place to start.

* * *

Kurt took a deep breath before getting out of his car. He had no clue what to expect from this "sexy lesson." Of course, all the way home his mind had been preoccupied with visions of steamy kisses and wandering hands and dirty whispers, but as he pulled into the driveway, noticing that Blaine was still right behind him he realized he needed to pull himself together. Blaine was most definitely _not_ going to ravish him today. He probably had some nice, condescending lesson planned that would make Kurt feel even more inexperienced and humiliated. But, he could have said "no, I don't need the help, thank you very much," and he didn't. He was so freaking desperate to spend time with Blaine, that even humiliation seemed worth it.

After Blaine's gay-epiphany when Rachel kissed him sober, both boys had moved on, pretty much pretending their fight never happened. As much as it pained him to think back on Blaine's brief interest in Rachel, Kurt found himself replaying that fight in his mind again and again, realizing that he had seen a vulnerable side of Blaine that day—a side that had only peeked out a couple of times around Valentine's Day—a side that had most definitely not made an appearance since the fight, when _(Kurt winced at the memory) _Kurt essentially trampled over all of Blaine's insecurities. No, ever since that afternoon when Rachel left Kurt holding Blaine's place in line, all Kurt had seen was the strong, confident "Mentor Blaine." He could feel that this role was really a bunch of walls that Blaine was really using to protect himself, and Kurt worried that he'd screwed up his only chance of getting past those walls to the real Blaine.

But even strong, confident, closed-off Blaine was better than no Blaine. Kurt sighed, and stepped out of his car, where Blaine met him with a confident smile.

"Ready?" he asked. Kurt nodded.

"Sure." Kurt led the way into the house, noting that no one else appeared to be home. That was a relief. He didn't need his dad to overhear Blaine teaching him how to be sexy.

"We're going to need a mirror. You have one in your room, right?" Blaine hung his coat and scarf up on the coat tree with Kurt's, and Kurt nodded again.

"Yup. I do." And Kurt led the way upstairs, trying desperately not to think about how the last time Blaine came to his room, Kurt had practically carried him up these stairs and then slept in bed next to him.

In his room, Kurt gestured toward the vanity and Blaine walked right over, plopping himself down on the stool.

"This is perfect," Blaine gushed and patted the open half of the bench. "Sit here."

Kurt swallowed and tried not to roll his eyes. This was not going to be fun.

* * *

"Alright, so give me 'sensual,' but don't make fun of it, like, really try."

Blaine held his face in a neutral expression as Kurt made a strange, pained face into the mirror. That was not at all what Blaine was going for. He thought back to the flirty looks Kurt made during their duet, and tried to come up with a different word.

"Okay… now give me 'sultry.'"

Nope. That didn't work, either, and Blaine couldn't help but chuckle lightly at how difficult Kurt seemed to be making this.

"Um… Kurt, they're all… all sort of looking the same…" Blaine tried to lighten the mood a little, but Kurt's voice was more serious than ever as he looked Blaine in the eye through the mirror and responded.

"That's because the face I'm actually doing is 'uncomfortable.'"

Blaine stifled his giggle and watched as Kurt stood and moved a few paces away.

"This is pointless, Blaine," Kurt continued, "I don't know how to be sexy because I don't know the first thing about sex." Kurt had turned to face Blaine, again, raising his arms in an exasperated shrug, and Blaine couldn't help but grin at the adorable flush creeping up Kurt's neck, onto his cheeks.

"Kurt, you're blushing!" Blaine didn't even attempt to hide his amusement, while Kurt blundered on.

"I've tried watching _those_ movies," Kurt gave Blaine a pointed look, so that Blaine had no doubt what _those_ movies were, and the rest of Kurt's rant went right over Blaine's head. His eyes glazed over a little as he absorbed the idea that Kurt had watched porn. Gay porn. He didn't know whether to be turned on, or stunned that Kurt went looking in the first place, or horrified that Kurt turned to porn for information about sex. He vaguely registered that Kurt's reaction to said porn involved something about disappointed mothers, and he forced himself to tune back in as Kurt blurted, "…and why would you get that tattooed there?"

Blaine tried to regain his sense of control by resuming his familiar jedi-master Blaine role. The game had changed—"sexy lessons" were out the window, and Blaine tried to reorient himself so that he could tackle plain old "sex." He pulled his feet up onto Kurt's bench, so that he could face Kurt directly and suggested, "Then, maybe we should have a conversation about it. I can tell you what I know." Honestly, Blaine had no idea what he would say, or how he would talk to Kurt about sex without sounding like a complete idiot, but this is what mentors do, right? Help. Fix things. He could fix this.

"No," Kurt jumped in quickly, "I…I don't want to know the graphic details. I like romance." Blaine gaped at the shy, sweet expression on Kurt's face. "That's why I like Broadway musicals. Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets."

Blaine briefly noted that if Kurt considered fingers an erogenous zone, that would explain why he thought Blaine was sending mixed signals. Then Blaine had a sudden, inexplicable vision of some faceless bastard touching and kissing and licking Kurt until he was a puddle of ignorant, innocent compliance. His stomach churned at the thought.

"Kurt, you're going to have to learn about it someday."

"Well, not today." Kurt's tone sounded final. "I think I've learned quite enough for today, thank you. I think you should leave."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a fraction of a second, wondering if Kurt was angry with him. He stood and walked past Kurt in silence. All the way down the stairs, Blaine was kicking himself, internally. He totally blew it. Instead of helping, he just made things worse. And now he was totally going to be haunted by visions of faceless strangers taking of advantage of Kurt. He wrapped his scarf around his neck, pulled on his coat, and let himself out the front door, feeling defeated.

* * *

Kurt stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed until he heard the front door close behind Blaine. Then he turned around and fell back onto the bed in frustration. What had he done? Totally and completely humiliated himself—that's what. He couldn't believe he talked to Blaine about porn! It's not like he'd even watched much. Five minutes of one of those tapes Rachel smuggled from her Dads' cabinet had been more than enough. Kurt returned the tapes the same night he borrowed them, horrified to even have them in his room overnight.

Blaine must think he's such an idiot—a frigid, naïve, baby penguin of an idiot. Kurt felt every one of his long-cherished dreams of Blaine touching and kissing and holding him die a messy, painful death, squashed under the weight of today's humiliation. Blaine would never see him as anything more than a friend—an ignorant, asexual friend.

He needed to steel himself up for school tomorrow. He needed to sweep all these dead, mangled dreams out of his heart and salvage his pride. He needed to be ready to face Blaine, believing that being friends would be enough, from here on out. But first, he needed to cry.


	2. Chapter 2: Mechanics

**Wow! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and/or added this story to their favorites, and for all the Story Alerts. All your enthusiasm gave me the energy I needed to get this second chapter up—and wow, did it get long! It carries us through the end of S2 ep 15, though, so the next chapter with be Original Songs content! (I'm excited, how about you?) This was half-written when I posted Chapter one, and Chapter three is not started at all, yet, so it may be a week or so before I get the next one up. Reviews might just give me the adrenaline I need to post more quickly, though. *wink, wink***

**And since I forgot to include it in the first chapter, here's my disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters, or any of the magnificent dialogue written by the show's screenwriters.**

**

* * *

**

Roughly 24 hours after the debacle at Kurt's house, Blaine found himself driving into Lima, again. School had not been as awkward as he feared. Kurt seemed to rally and acted pretty normal. Maybe a little closed off, but Blaine didn't feel like Kurt was avoiding him, which was his worst fear.

Well, maybe not his worst. His worst fear—a fear that grew from a tiny seed in Kurt's room last night into a full-blown, Little-Shop-of-Horrors-sized nightmare that kept him up half the night—was the idea that some day in some hazy, hypothetical future some bastard would take advantage of Kurt's sexual naivety and Kurt would end up broken, used, and dying of AIDS. Yeah. It got that big overnight. And Blaine couldn't help but worry that if something even close to that ever happened to Kurt, it would be his own damn fault for not knowing how to talk to him about sex.

He'd spent half the night wondering if there was a way he could bring it up again without making Kurt so defensive. He considered just giving Kurt a list of websites—ones that really did offer information and not just a cheap thrill. Would he look any of them up? Probably not. Didn't he say that he didn't want to know the graphic details?

That's when Blaine started despairing. In retrospect, it had been pretty stupid of him to sit down and try to talk about sex, or even sexiness with a guy he was pretty sure had a bit of a crush on him—and to do so in the same room where he had passed out drunk on the other boy's bed after kissing and flirting with a girl all night… yeah. There was no way that _wouldn't_ send mixed signals.

Blaine honestly didn't remember much about sleeping at Kurt's that night. He didn't remember getting there. He didn't remember being in bed with Kurt, and that did kind of suck—his first time sleeping in another boy's bed and he didn't remember a thing! All he remembered was waking up to loud, incoherent voices and briefly noticing that the pillow in his face smelled really nice—much too good to be his own bed—before his head started throbbing and then pounding. He remembers Kurt telling him to sit still while he went to pour a mug of coffee, and he remembers Kurt's flushed face as he told him, _"You need to drink this quickly and get out of here. My dad saw you in my bed, and even though it's not like we did anything, I'm pretty sure he's mad_." The drive home had been excruciating—all that blinding light!

Later, at school, Blaine had thanked Kurt for not letting him drive home, and asked Kurt whether he was in trouble with his dad. Kurt had shrugged, _"He was definitely upset, and accused me of being 'inappropriate,' in his house, which I just think means that he's still uncomfortable about the idea of two guys sleeping together. I mean, he actually talked about Brokeback Mountain and said as far as he could tell, 'something went down in the tent.' Anyway, I promised I wouldn't have any potentially gay guys sleep over without his expressed permission, and then I told him it would be really nice if he would educate himself so that if I had questions I could ask my dad like any straight son could. That felt kind of good—to be able to tell him off, too, since it totally wasn't fair for him to assume that… you know… anything happened."_

Blaine still marveled that Kurt had the nerve to say that to his dad. If he said anything like that to his own father, he would get a stern, "Don't you talk that way to me, son," in reply. Kurt's dad was incredible. Honestly, Blaine was a little jealous. Kurt knew that his dad loved and supported him, no matter what. Kurt had seen his dad step up and defend him, defend his sexual orientation. Blaine suspected that his own dad still thought being gay was a choice, and that if Blaine really cared about being a good son he would choose to settle down with a nice girl and make babies. He wasn't sure his dad would ever accept him the way Burt accepted Kurt.

_Burt!_ At about 3:30 am, Blaine realized how he could fix this, and that's how he found himself driving into Lima for the second day in a row.

* * *

"Need a hand?" Burt's confusion showed on his face as he looked up. Blaine was the last person he expected to see sauntering into his garage on a weekday afternoon.

_Yeah right, rich kid_, Burt thought and quickly decided to call the kid's bluff. "Yeah, why don't you hand me that carburetor," he said, glancing at a table littered with engine parts.

_Well damn, he knows a carburetor when he sees one. _Burt felt temporarily off-balance, as Blaine casually selected the right piece of metal and handed it over. "How'd you know which one it was?" Burt had no qualms letting Blaine know he was surprised.

"My dad and I rebuilt a '59 Chevy in our garage a few summers ago. One of his, uh… many attempts at bonding."

_Huh,_ Burt thought. _Who'd have thought…_ He vaguely remembered that Blaine was really into football, too—he even came to one of the McKinley games with Kurt. He could probably find some things to like about this kid. _If he ever mans up and stops stringing Kurt along…_Burt added in his mind.

"You here looking for parts?"

"No, actually. I…uh, wanted to talk to you about Kurt."

Burt's immediate response was visceral. "Is he okay?" As he watched this kid's nervousness, however, Burt began to wonder if Blaine was here to ask his permission for something… involving Kurt…

"Have you ever talked to him about … sex…"

_Wait, what now?Where the hell did that come from? Is Blaine trying to have sex with Kurt? Is Kurt trying to have sex with Blaine?_ Burt's internal protective dad alarms were blaring so loudly he could barely think. He started moving in towards Blaine with an interrogating look.

"Are you gay… or straight… or what?"

Burt was pleased to see Blaine look him straight in the eyes as he replied, "I'm definitely gay." _Well, that part seems cleared up._ Burt remembered Kurt's overreaction to the ruined strawberry soufflé, and how he seemed really hurt that Blaine was "experimenting" with Rachel. Honestly, Burt was kind of ashamed at how he came down so hard on the boy when he was obviously already hurting. Not his finest moment as a dad…

This Blaine kid seemed good for Kurt, for the most part. Seemed to be a role model, a decent friend. And definitely gay.

"Okay, good…I mean, you know… whatever… but, uh good for Kurt. He needs someone like you to _talk_ to." Burt emphasized the word talk. Not experiment. Not fool around. Talk.

"Well that's kind of my point. I tried talking to him. But he basically puts his fingers in his ears and starts singing." _This kid just won't let up!_ Burt's defenses kick into gear again.

"Well, when he's ready, he'll listen." _And until then, you keep your damn hands off my son, _Burt added in his head. He didn't care how much Kurt adored this kid, and he didn't care that the kid seemed pretty decent. No one would force Kurt into something he wasn't ready for without consequences. Hard consequences.

"I'm worried that it might be too late." Burt could not believe the nerve of this kid. Too late for what? Kurt was still a kid. There was plenty of time for him to figure things out. But Blaine definitely had Burt's full attention as he continued, "You know, Dalton doesn't even have sex ed. classes. Most schools don't. And the ones that do almost never discuss what sex is like for gay kids." Burt glanced around the garage, wondering how he ended up in a situation like this—talking to a teenage boy about gay sex in the middle of his workplace.

Meanwhile, Blaine moved closer, his voice taking on more emotion.

"Kurt is the most compassionate, moral person I have ever met."

Burt looked up at Blaine's sincere face, "Well, he gets that from his mother." But Blaine wasn't finished.

"…and I'm _blown away_ by your guys' relationship." Suddenly Burt saw levels of emotion in Blaine's eyes that he was not expecting. "You think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? I think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight." The pain in this kid's eyes was too much for Burt—it reminded him too much of the times he let Kurt down. Silently, he thanked whatever grace it was that helped him step out of his own fears and ignorance and see his own son with clear eyes and unconditional love. He began to move back to the open car hood, needing something to keep his hands busy.

"He talk to you about, uh…this kind of stuff?"

"No! I had to go find it for myself. The internet is great, and all the information is out there, but I went searching for it. Kurt _won't_." Burt couldn't say he thought that was a bad thing. Who knows what kind of crap Kurt would learn from the internet. "And one day," Blaine continued, "he'll be at a party, and maybe have a few drinks, and he'll meet some guy and start fooling around, and he's not going to know about using protection, or STDs…" _Damn it!_ Burt squeezed his eyes closed, trying to purge the images this kid just planted in his brain. It was all a little too close to home, seeing as just a week ago Burt found out that Kurt does, in fact, go to parties where alcohol is available, and apparently has no qualms bringing a boy—_this boy!_—back to his room, drunk. Yeah. Blaine had made his point, but he started following Burt to the car, apparently intent on saying even more.

"I don't have the relationship with my dad that you have with Kurt." Burt looked over at Blaine just in time to see that sadness in his eyes, again before the kid looked away. "I think it would be really cool if you took advantage of that."

Burt glanced at Blaine's intense face again. _Damn it, the kid had a point. Hadn't Kurt practically asked him for the same thing a week ago? What kind of kid asks their dad for The Talk? And what kind of dad ignores that?_

Blaine shook his head, "I—I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

"You are." Burt left it at that, and watched Blaine make his way back out of the garage, but the kid sure got him thinking. One of the first things to hit him was that Kurt apparently shared a lot with this kid—enough that he seemed to understand the dynamic he and Kurt had going on. And this kid cared a whole hell of a lot for his son. They may not be dating, but this was no ordinary friendship. Blaine really seemed to be looking out for Kurt—wanting him to be safe. Burt figured Kurt could do a lot worse than this Blaine kid.

And that boy was getting The Talk tonight, but not because of that terrifying date-rape scenario Blaine planted in his mind. No. Kurt was getting The Talk, because if this Blaine kid ever figured out that he reciprocated Kurt's romantic feelings, things were going to get real intense real fast, and Kurt needed to be ready for that—he needed to know enough that he'd be able to set his own boundaries—say yes, and no, and not just go with what felt good. Burt looked at his hand, trembling on the car's hood. He might be willing to try to help Kurt, but he would never be ready for Kurt to grow up, himself.

* * *

Burt sat in his car outside the free clinic, looking through the pamphlets they gave him. He'd felt more than a little awkward asking the receptionist for information on gay sex for his son, and the awkwardness only increased when she started fawning over him, like he was a saint or something. _We never get fathers asking for this kind of stuff! It's always friends or case workers…sometimes the moms. You must be an amazing dad!_ Burt just didn't get why people kept making such a big deal, when he was just trying to do his job—hanging on by the skin of his teeth most of the time. It made him wonder what kind of assholes were out there calling themselves fathers.

The pamphlets were helpful. Not too graphic, but plenty of information. Lots of information about safe sex—some of it stuff that was new to Burt. Things had changed since he was a kid. There was a lot more to worry about. Burt would never have thought to tell Kurt to use protection for oral sex, or fingering.

The pamphlet about "anal intercourse" was definitely the most difficult to get through, but Burt learned a lot. He was glad to see that there were plenty of instructions about taking things slowly, spending lots of time on preparation with fingers, using lots of lubrication. But the part that eased his mind the most was a simple paragraph toward the beginning: _Many people assume that in same-sex couples, one partner always penetrates and the other always receives penetration (sometimes called "topping" and "bottoming"). The reality is that many same-sex couples alternate these roles regularly, both taking pleasure in both positions. There are also couples who have fulfilling sex lives without ever engaging in anal penetration._

As he read that, Burt realized he'd always made that assumption about gay couples, himself. On some subconscious level, he'd always felt like gay sex must always be defined by a dominant/submissive dynamic, and it made him sick to think that his sweet, affectionate little boy would be stuck in that submissive role. It was encouraging to know that he could expect his son to find a more mutual relationship, where there was plenty of give and take. And maybe he'd even have a fulfilling sex life without anal at all. A dad could dream, right?

As he drove home, working up the nerve to talk to Kurt, Burt couldn't help but wonder what Kurt's mother would want to tell him. She and Burt had been so young when they got married, and they had pretty much learned about sex together, by trial and error. It may not have been the best, or the easiest method, but Burt was still so grateful for all the she taught him—about how tender it could be, and how it was so much more than just a physical release. There were still nights when Burt would dream of her—her smell and how one loving stroke of her fingers along his shoulder blade or hip bone could make him well up with gratitude. He and Carol talked a lot about their respective first loves, and what they learned from loving and being loved by their lost spouses. That's what Burt wants for Kurt—that kind of love and respect and affection. That's what he needs Kurt to know—that he can expect that, and not to settle for less.

* * *

Kurt was totally unprepared when his dad slapped down a stack of pamphlets on the kitchen counter. The top one, entitled "Boys who love Boys," had a cheesy drawing of two kids with their arms around each other.

"What are those?" he asked, worried that he didn't want to know the answer.

"Those are some pamphlets I picked up from the free clinic. I thought it might help the process along, because it is time you and I had The Talk."

He knew it. He knew he didn't want the answer. "Oh no it's not." It was a feeble attempt at thwarting the inevitable, and Kurt knew it.

"Yes it is." Kurt ignored the rest of his father's pointed argument by sticking his fingers in his ears and singing monotone LaLa notes loud enough to drown out the awkward words that were streaming from his father's mouth. But when Burt held him firmly by the shoulders and guided him toward the table, Kurt gave up. "Believe me, I want to do this even less than you do," his dad continued, "This is gonna suck for both of us, but we're going to get through it together, and we will both be better men because of it."

Kurt avoided eye contact with his dad, and tried to look somewhat dignified in an I-still-protest-this sort of way as he sat opposite his father. Burt set the pamphlets on the table and fanned them slightly. Kurt glanced down, and then away again, scared to see what the other pamphlets said.

"Now first, most of the, you know, _mechanics_ of what you're going to be doing is covered in the pamphlets…okay?" Kurt raised his eye brows a little. His dad assumed he'd be doing this stuff, and was okay with that? "…so I, uh, want you to read them, and then I want you to come talk to me about it. Deal?"

"Okay," Kurt replied quickly, wanting this to be over, even if he now had an awesome follow-up conversation to look forward to. Maybe he could pretend to lose the pamphlets before he got a chance to read them… He reached for the stack of literature, and began to stand up so that he could escape and scream into his pillow in the privacy of his own room.

"All right, now… Hey! Sit down," Burt stopped him before he was fully upright. "We're just getting started." Kurt sat back down, wondering what horrors were still in store.

"Now for most guys, sex is just, you know, this thing we always want to do." Kurt could not believe he was hearing this. He did not want to hear his dad talk about wanting sex. And he resented the fact that his dad assumed all guys wanted sex all the time. He didn't. He was terrified of sex. Did that make him less of a guy? And it wasn't over. Burt was just getting started. "You know, it's fun, it feels great, but we're not really thinking too much about, you know, how it makes us feel on the inside, or, you know, how the other person feels about it."

"Women are different?" Kurt supposed the second part was true about him. He avoided thinking about sex at all, so he definitely wasn't thinking about how it would make him feel "on the inside." Was that really just a guy thing?

"Only because they get that it's about more than just… the physical." _Tell that to Santana!_ Kurt thought. There were exceptions to every rule. "You know, when you're intimate with somebody, in _that way_, you're exposing yourself. You—you're never going to be more vulnerable, and that scares the hell out of a lot of guys, believe me. I can't tell you how many buddies I've got, who've gotten in way—too—deep with a girl who said she was cool with just hooking up."

Kurt honestly couldn't tell where his dad was going with this, anymore. He raised his eyebrows as he countered, "But that's not going to happen to me, Dad."

"No, it's going to be worse, okay, because it's _two guys._ With two guys, you got _two_ people who think that sex is just sex. It's going to be easier to come by, and once you start doing this stuff, you're not going to want to stop. Do you just…you gotta know that it means something, you know, it's _doing_ something _to you_—to your heart—to your self-esteem, even though it feels like you're just having fun."

Kurt's mind buzzed and his heart pounded. His dad had just put words to everything that terrified Kurt about sex. Well, maybe not _everything_, because he was also terrified that it would hurt, and that he would do it wrong, but what his dad said—that all terrified him, too. That must be the point—of course parents would make sex sound scary—they don't want their kids to do it.

"So… you're saying I shouldn't have sex." Part of Kurt suspected that he was selling his dad short, but all that heartfelt rambling had been so awkward, he kind of wanted Burt back in the stereotypical, but safe and predictable sitcom dad role.

"I think on your thirtieth birthday, it is a great gift to yourself." Kurt raised his eyebrows, again. He slid into that stereotype pretty smoothly! Even with all his fears, Kurt hoped he'd have sex well before he hit thirty. But just as quickly, Burt slid back out of the stereotype and looked Kurt in the eyes. "Kurt, when you're ready, I want you to be able to… do everything." Even Kurt could see how difficult it was for Burt to finish that sentence. "But when you're ready, I want you to… use it as a way to connect to another person. Don't throw yourself around, like you don't matter. 'Cause you matter, Kurt."

After a deep, intense moment of silence, Kurt remembered how to breathe, and asked, "Is that it?"

"That's it, for now. Can I make you some toast?"

_Who could eat, now?_ Kurt thought, but he said, "I think I'll take it up to my room to eat, while I look over my new pamphlets." Kurt gathered the small pile, not sure if he was excited to read them, or terrified, but knowing he was definitely glad to escape this table. And he was actually glad to have a dad who cared enough to do this, even though, as his father had so eloquently put it, "it sucked."

"Thank you, Dad," he smiled up at Burt's face, which brimmed full of affection.

"You're welcome." Burt nodded slightly, and Kurt made his escape.

* * *

Kurt set the pamphlets on his vanity and tried to find something else to do in his room. It seemed weird to just sit down and read them right away with his dad downstairs knowing what he was doing. So, instead he fed Pavarotti and cleaned his cage.

Why did sex intimidate him so much? His dad talked as if every teenage boy was just itching to have sex at the first opportunity, but that's not how Kurt felt. It's not that he never wanted to have sex, or that he thought it was gross, or dirty (well, if he was honest, anal sex did sound a little gross, but not so gross that he would never try it—tons of gay men all around the world seemed to like it and they couldn't all be wrong, right?). No, it just seemed like sex was such a big, risky step that Kurt couldn't even imagine doing it, yet.

He'd had wet dreams, and he jerked off, like any adolescent boy. That was actually part of how he realized he was gay—he didn't dream about scantily-clad women, he dreamt about bare-chested boys at the swimming pool, masculine hands stroking his face, and more recently, a particular pair of smoldering hazel eyes. His dreams and fantasies were never graphic—they didn't need to be. And if hands and bare chests and intense eyes had that much power over him, Kurt was scared to think what the more explicit stuff would do—and he didn't mean porn. After his brief exposure, Kurt decided that porn was ridiculous and contrived, and more than a little exploitative. No, he meant an actual, real-life naked boy in the same room, or a guy who would actually let Kurt touch him anywhere normally covered by clothing, and who would want to touch him back.

That's part of why Kurt fell for Blaine so hard, so fast. After years of watching every boy in school avoid him like the plague and cringe if they came into contact with him, Blaine was pretty overwhelming. His casual hand-grabbing and shoulder-squeezing and knee-patting did crazy things to Kurt's heart. It was the most intimate contact he'd ever had with a male, apart from his dad. A year ago, Kurt wouldn't have let himself believe he might really meet a guy who touched him so easily. It helped him believe that maybe, someday he'd meet a man who would really want him—not just to satisfy some physical urge, but in that way his dad was talking about—to connect.

Kurt looked back at the stack of pamphlets and took a deep breath. He felt oddly self-conscious with Pavarotti hopping around in his cage, so he turned to the bird and whispered, "You don't need to see this, do you?" He slipped on the newly completed cage cover, admiring his own handiwork. He was proud of how well he'd cut and sewn the plaid panels—the pattern lined up perfectly at every seam. _At least there are some things I do well_. He sighed, and took the pamphlets to his bed.

Kurt relaxed a little when he skimmed them all and discovered that about half of them had no pictures at all, and the ones that did were clinical-looking line-drawings. Two of the pamphlets looked a little more general, and Kurt decided to start with those. It turned out that one of them was mostly about figuring out you're gay in the first place and coming to terms with that. Not so helpful, since Kurt went through that whole process years ago. He smirked, thinking how Blaine could have used it a week ago…

The other pamphlet looked much more promising. It had a section entitled, "Same-Sex Intimacy." Kurt was surprised and, frankly relieved to discover just how much counted as sexual contact. Somehow, he'd always figured it went straight from kissing to anal sex, but it turned out there was a lot more—and it all counted as sex. Kurt had to admit, some of it looked… intriguing. He could imagine doing some of this, and enjoying it.

The rest of the pamphlets were more technical: what protection to use, and how, and where to get it (_Was all this stuff seriously sitting on the shelves of every neighborhood drug store?_ Just the thought made Kurt blush). One of them talked about how to get tested for HIV (_Scarey!_) and how to avoid various STDs (_Ew!)_. The rest were how-to guides for anal sex (_Wow that looks complicated!_), oral sex (_Is it okay that I think this would feel amazing, but would be kind of gross to do?_), hand jobs (_Um, yeah. That I can imagine…)_ and something with a complicated name that just seemed like really intense, naked grinding _(Now that—that sounds freaking fantastic!_)

Kurt tucked the pile of pamphlets safely away in the drawer of his vanity, pulled the cover off of Pavarotti's cage and tried to focus on homework, or something. He couldn't go downstairs and risk facing his dad, yet. But focusing on work was practically impossible, too. He suspected that a lot more than smoldering hazel eyes would haunt his dreams tonight…

* * *

Blaine grinned at Kurt, flitting around the kitchen, listing off all the available drinks and snacks. He was so glad Kurt suggested studying together at his house, this afternoon. It had become a pretty regular thing this semester, but after the "sexy lesson" debacle, Blaine worried that Kurt might avoid him for a while. It was good to see that they were back to normal.

"No really, Kurt, I don't need anything." Kurt gave Blaine a look of disbelief.

"You're turning down food?"

"Okay, fine," Blaine shrugged. "A coke and some pretzels sounds awesome." He looked down at his hands as he started unloading textbooks from his bag. "Actually, Kurt, what I could really use is a pair of nail-clippers—I've got this hang-nail that's been driving me crazy all day." Whenever Blaine was nervous, he picked at the skin around his nails, and he'd definitely be nervous during the last few days. Driving to see Burt had been the worst!

"Oh, I've got a pair in the drawer of my vanity. Help yourself!" Kurt pulled a bowl down from the cabinet and started pouring pretzels into it.

"Your vanity—is that the thing with the mirror in your room?" Blaine was already on his way out of the room, so he didn't see the withering look Kurt directed toward him, but he could hear the attitude in Kurt's voice as he replied, "Yes, Blaine, the thing with the mirror."

Blaine greeted Pavarotti on his way to the "vanity," and began opening drawers, looking for the clippers. Everything in Kurt's room always looked so immaculate, and Blaine was oddly relieved to discover that the drawers were kind of a mess. It was nice to think that Kurt had a messy side, even if he kept it well-hidden. Blaine was still shuffling the contents of the drawer around trying to locate anything that looked like nail clippers, when his eyes fell on a stack of pamphlets. Sex pamphlets. He couldn't resist pulling them out, and was just sitting down on the vanity bench to take a closer look, when Kurt burst into the room, out of breath.

"Blaine, wait, I remembered that the clippers are in the bathroom cab—oh… shit." Both boys blushed furiously, and Blaine was about to apologize for invading Kurt's privacy, when Kurt spoke, "I was hoping you hadn't seen those, yet. Dad gave me The Talk yesterday, and I totally forgot that I put them there."

"No, Kurt, I'm sorry. I should have just left them." But Blaine was curious. Did Burt do this because of their conversation at the garage? He must have picked up the pamphlets on the way home from work! "So did he basically just give you the pamphlets to read?"

Kurt turned two shades redder, remembering the awkward conversation. "Well, yes and no. He directed me to the pamphlets to learn 'the mechanics,'" Blaine laughed at how Kurt imitated Burt's voice. It definitely sounded like a term Burt would use. "And then he talked about how sex is about more than just the physical—it does stuff to your self-esteem, and that guys have a harder time getting that than women, so I need to be careful, and not throw myself around, and I should use it to connect with someone who knows that I matter."

Blaine gulped, and turned away from Kurt as he placed the pamphlets back and closed the drawer. He didn't want Kurt to see him blinking away the tears in his eyes. "You know your dad's amazing, right?"

Kurt laughed a little uncomfortably. "Yeah, well he also suggested I should save sex for my thirtieth birthday, so he's not perfect."

Blaine laughed too, but then turned back to Kurt with a serious gaze. "I mean it, Kurt. Your dad is amazing. I'm blown away by how much he loves you and shows it. I like to think that my dad loves me, but I never feel like I'm good enough for him. He always makes me feel like I need to be a little smarter or a little stronger or a little straighter to really be the son he wants. You're lucky."

Blaine could see the emotions playing on Kurt's face as he replied. "I know. I am."

Blaine pulled himself together, uncomfortable with just how much he'd just shared about himself. "Now, where'd you say those clippers are? We need to get cracking on that chemistry if I'm going to make it home in time for dinner."


	3. Chapter 3: Medicine

**Thank you all for the reviews! I managed to get this chapter done in less than a week—I'm so pleased. The next chapter is the one I'm really worried about, but I'll have an excuse to watch the Kiss on repeat, so I think I'll enjoy the struggle. **

**In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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Kurt was trying to get over Blaine. He really was. He tried to carry on their established routines—coffee non-dates, weekly study sessions, lunch breaks, Warblers' practice—without reading anything into them, without imagining that they could grow into something more. Kurt was trying, but as Blaine made his dramatic entrance to the opening notes of "Misery," Kurt gave him a dirty look. _Why do you make it_ _so damn hard_?

Kurt wanted to hate Blaine for always being the center of attention. He wanted to resent Blaine for his cocky attitude and façade of perfection, and then Blaine would do something like this—drag Kurt to his feet, hold him close around the shoulders and skip him down the hall—and Kurt's stupid little heart would flip and flutter just like the first day they met. It didn't help that Blaine kept choosing these songs that expressed Kurt's romantic frustrations perfectly.

The whole "Animal" fiasco came a little too close to home—_Yeah, seriously, Blaine, I want some more; what are you waiting for, damn it!_ But all that song led to was insult and humiliation. And now, here was Blaine, cuddling up to Kurt's shoulder, singing, _"I am in misery, there ain't nobody who can comfort me!"_ Blaine was always so caught up in himself when he performed, Kurt knew he wouldn't notice the near grimace under his smile as he joined in, "_Why won't you answer me? The silence is slowly killing me!"_

_Yep. That pretty well summed it up._ Kurt was glad when Blaine jumped up and stopped singing this infuriating song directly in his face, as if it were meant for him. He tried not to dwell on Blaine's dashing moves and charming looks as he hammed up the rest of the song. If Blaine was going to be so adorably oblivious, Kurt just needed to ignore him as much as possible.

He was sure he could do this—he'd just ignore Blaine and sing the song for himself. He sure meant every word… "_Why do you do what you do to me? Why won't you answer me, answer me?"_ Kurt even found himself enjoying this a little. It was a catchy tune, if he tried to ignore the fact that Blaine was singing these suggestive lyrics less than ten feet away.

When he wasn't focused on Blaine, Kurt began to notice how every other eye in the room was totally locked on his crush. Why had he never noticed how much these Warblers idolize Blaine? It was a little sickening, now that he was not actively participating in the hero-worship… or at least trying not to participate.

* * *

As the crowd of excited Warblers dissipated, Blaine made his way toward Kurt and—was that Pavarotti's cage, covered in Burberry plaid? Leave it to Kurt... "How did you manage to find a Burberry-esque canary cage cover?" _Really,_ Blaine thought, _is there anything Kurt can't accessorize?_ He found the boy's love of fashion kind of… well, cute, and his affection for this canary was downright adorable.

"So what'd you think of the song?" Blaine knew it rocked. The room was still buzzing with all the energy they generated. But he wanted to hear Kurt say it, wanted to hear praise from his best friend—the one whose opinion really mattered.

"Can I be _really_ honest with you? Because it comes from a place of caring?" _Um… what?_ Blaine shrugged, wondering where Kurt was headed with this. "Been there. Done that." Blaine's heart sank a little. _He didn't like it?_ "Look, you're amazing, Blaine; your solos are breathtaking…" That sounded better. Blaine actually felt a little embarrassed. _Breathtaking? Wow. I take his breath away…_ but nothing could have wiped the grin off his face more quickly than the end of Kurt's sentence, "they're also numerous."

_Wait, is that what this is about?_ Blaine knew Kurt had some trouble adjusting to the Warblers and how different they were from New Directions, but he thought they were past that. "Kurt, the Council decides who gets the solos. Do I detect a little jealousy?"

"No, you detect a lot of jealousy…" _Woah, where did this Kurt come from?_ Blaine had never felt Kurt's sarcastic edge directed toward himself. It sucked. As Kurt sauntered off to class, canary cage held aloft, Blaine tried to make sense of how he was feeling. _"Blaine and the Pips," huh?_ _Well, why don't you go start your own group if it bothers you so much?_ Blaine let that first wave of frustration crash through his body, and quickly realized how childish it was. He did feel angry, but not really at Kurt. More just angry that he didn't get what he wanted—that he didn't get Kurt's… adoration…? _God, am I really that bad?_

Blaine knew he loved the spotlight—he always had. Even as a kid, he soaked up every bit of attention his parents would give him, developing more and more goofy faces and crazy antics to draw that attention. And he knew he got most—okay, lately _all_—of the solos when the Warblers performed, but that's because the council judged that he would give the best performance, right? Kurt made it seem as though he was manipulating things behind the scenes, pulling strings to land himself all the glory.

More than anything, Kurt's words hurt. _Is that what Kurt really thinks of me?_ All the praise Kurt could lavish on his singing voice and performance style would never mean anything if Kurt thought he was a selfish attention whore. But what could he do about it? He really wasn't asking for these solos. It was out of his hands. He just hoped Kurt would get off his high horse and be his friend again. Soon.

* * *

Kurt woke up earlier than usual, shaking himself out of a nightmare full of Blaine with hurt, angry eyes. Silent Blaine. Silent Blaine loathing him. Kurt hadn't seen Blaine after he'd given his honest appraisal of "Misery," and obviously at least part of his subconscious worried that he'd been too hard on his friend. After all, he wasn't fighting for all these solos, like Rachel used to—Blaine couldn't really help that the Warblers treated him like a music god.

At the same time, Kurt really did wonder if the Warblers were getting a little stale. He missed the constant challenges New Directions tackled. Granted, most of them were obstacles designed by Coach Sylvester, but all those challenges made them stronger, more cohesive, more versatile. The Warblers were in a rut, and it was a rut that led straight to failure at Regionals.

Kurt felt this knot of frustration growing, even as he took his shower and went about his morning routine—frustration with Blaine, and with himself for hurting Blaine, and with the Warblers and their stupid traditions. He felt himself dreading school for the first time since he left McKinley.

It wasn't until he was sitting in his robe, filing his nails (the last step before getting dressed,) that Kurt started to feel a little better. Pavarotti was flitting around his cage, and started cheeping, like he only did in the morning. Kurt whistled back. He loved this game. Some mornings they would spend ten or fifteen minutes chirping to each other, and all the while Kurt felt like he was channeling Julie Andrews from _Mary Poppins_. _Yes, Pavarotti, you're my spoonful of sugar, for sure—help me make it through today!_ He smiled, waiting for the answering cheeps, and then noticed that Pavarotti wasn't bouncing on his twig. His eyes fell on the still, upturned body of the canary. _Oh, no no no no no no no no!_

_

* * *

_

Carol was still finishing her breakfast in the kitchen when Kurt came running in, still in his robe. "Carol, I think Pavarotti is sick! What do I do?" Kurt's panic shook in his voice as he held the cage a loft in front of his step-mother.

Carol tried to focus on the tiny bird inside the cage, but the cage was swinging and bouncing with Kurt's nervous energy. "Okay, Kurt, hon. Let's put the cage on the counter and I'll take a look." As soon as the cage sat still on the counter, however, Carol sighed. That was not a sick bird. That was a dead bird.

"Kurt, honey, I don't think there's anything we can do, now…"

"But he was just fine! He was happy and chirping a minute ago! Why would he…?" Kurt's voice faltered as he looked at the tiny, completely still body and let the truth sink in. "Why would he just go, like that?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know…" Carol wanted to wrap this sweet boy up in her arms and rock the sadness away, but she wasn't sure if it was her place. She settled for placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kurt tried to control his voice, tried to hold in the sobs as he turned to Carol and plead, "Can I please stay home, today? I… I just don't think I can handle… everything." Carol could hear the barely contained emotion in Kurt's voice, and she considered whether she should make the call on her own, or consult Burt.

"I'll talk to your dad, okay, hon?" Kurt nodded, blankly. When Carol was halfway up the stairs, Kurt called out, "Can I put him in the freezer? Until I figure out where to bury him?" Carol let out a sad chuckle and called back, "Go ahead. Just wrap him in something clean!"

It didn't take long for Carol to return, and when she did, Kurt was just placing a silk-wrapped bundle in the freezer. _Where does he find all these silk scarves?_ Carol wondered, not for the first time. "It's fine, Kurt. Your dad is calling Dalton now to let them know you're not feeling well. You get some rest, okay?" Kurt nodded and began to make his way back to his room, but he paused in the doorway and looked back at Carol with wet eyes. "Thank you." _Boy did I luck out with these Hummels,_ she smiled to herself, _they know just how to melt your heart._

_

* * *

_

Once Kurt knew that he didn't have to pull himself together for school, he just collapsed in a teary heap on his bed. He cried for Pavarotti—for his too-short life, for all the mornings when he wouldn't hear the bird's happy chirping, and as he usually did when he started crying, he ended up crying for everything—everything that was wrong with his life, every dear lost person and thing. He cried for his mom, wishing she could hold him and hug him and tell him it would be alright. He cried for his old house and all the memories it held. He cried for New Directions, missing his friends. He cried for Blaine, who would never love him. He cried himself into a fitful sleep and woke, with itchy eyes and matted hair some time after noon.

Under the soothing stream of a warm shower, Kurt decided that he'd done enough wallowing. Pavarotti deserved a decent send-off, and that would take some careful planning. By the time he toweled dry, Kurt had his day scheduled—well, the rest of his day scheduled. 1) Select appropriate mourning attire. 2) Dig through Mom's old tapes to find the right song. 3) Run by the craft store to find an appropriate casket. 4) Show up for Warbler's practice with a serenade worthy to honor Pavarotti. _After all,_ he thought, _who better to share the grief than the boys who gifted me with Pavarotti in the first place. They can spare three minutes of the Blaine-show to mourn a lost bird._

_

* * *

_

_Oh, thank God! _When the heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal Kurt, Blaine's first reaction was pure relief—he'd worried about Kurt all day, especially because he didn't reply to any of Blaine's numerous texts. The relief quickly transformed into concern, however, as Blaine took in the black outfit, the skull pin, and most of all, the tear-stained face of the boy in the doorway. "Kurt, what's wrong?" _What can I do? How can I help?_

"It's Pavarotti…" Blaine could hear the quaver in Kurt's voice, and it made him ache inside. "Pavarotti's dead. I suspect a stroke." In any other room full of teenage boys, such a somber announcement of a bird's demise would have been met with ridicule, but every one of these Warblers knew the significance of that canary, both as a symbol of welcome and belonging in their group, and to Kurt personally.

Blaine felt his chest constrict with sympathy, remembering Kurt doting on Pavarotti just the day before. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry…" He wanted to rush over and give Kurt a hug—to somehow make it better. But Kurt pressed on, with a look of determination on his face.

"I know it's really stupid to be upset about a bird, but he inspired me, with his optimism and his love of song… he was my friend," the way Kurt's voice faltered gave Blaine weak knees—he wanted so badly to make Kurt feel better—to take away this sadness in his voice. "Now, I know that today we need to practice doo-whopping behind Blaine, while he sings every solo in the medley of Pink songs…" Blaine felt a bitter smirk pass over his face, momentarily—_Not over that, yet, are we?_—but mostly he felt dismayed, standing across the room from Kurt, unable to do anything to help him. "…but I'd like to sing a song for Pavarotti today."

Kurt passed a cassette tape to the nearest Warbler in one, swift movement, and Blaine reluctantly sat down, feeling, frankly, kind of useless. Kurt was taking care of himself—doing what he needed to do. He wasn't coming to Blaine to fix things, and Blaine felt… displaced. It wasn't until Kurt began singing, however, that Blaine felt truly miserable.

This was the first time Blaine, or any of the Warblers, had heard Kurt sing—really sing out on his own—since his first audition. "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina," had been stunning—unlike anything the Warblers had ever heard, but Blaine had spent the whole song feeling awkward and self-conscious on Kurt's behalf, wishing he fit the Warbler mold better.

But here, today, Kurt was not trying to impress anyone. He was not auditioning. No one expected him to conform to the Warblers' style…and he was… _What was that word Kurt used yesterday? Breathtaking. Yes, Kurt is breathtaking!_

The truth of Kurt's criticism crashed over Blaine like a wave. _Blaine and the Pips. He's absolutely right. I may not ask for all these solos, but I never turn them down, and as a result, we've gone months without this—this beautiful, life-changing voice. Kurt—and God knows who else—has been silenced while I hog the mic._ Blaine felt his ego slowly drain away, and he began doo-whopping—singing back-up to someone else's lead for the first time all year. He was so ashamed, so humbled by Kurt's ability to see and name his faults that for the whole first verse he couldn't bring himself to even look at the source of this incredible voice.

When he did, he felt his heart stop, and he couldn't go on singing because he saw something he never expected. Gone was the fragile boy who needed his protection, the wounded Kurt who fled McKinley in fear and needed a mentor more than anything. In his place stood a strong, shockingly beautiful man, full of emotion, full of self-awareness, full of love—a man who had seen Blaine's weakness and insecurities and had stuck by him. A man who challenged him to become a better man, himself. _Oh my God—how did I not see? _A flood of joy and affection and hope washed through Blaine's heart as he gazed at Kurt with new eyes.

When Kurt finished the song, he excused himself to clean up in the bathroom, and Blaine held himself back from running after him. _No, I need to do this right. _He wasn't sure how exactly to do it right, yet, but he knew that accosting Kurt in the bathroom would not cut it.

The rest of practice felt like torture. Blaine was keenly aware of being in the spotlight when all he wanted was to listen to Kurt sing something else beautiful. He also noticed that Kurt seemed to be avoiding eye-contact with him, and he was scared to find out what that was about. He found himself reviewing the last month—from Kurt's confession on Valentine's Day (which made Blaine's heart skip a beat, now that he replayed it in his head), to Rachel's party, the fight in the coffee shop, the miserable attempt at "sexy lessons." _God,_ Blaine realized_, I've really messed with him_. And for the first time it occurred to Blaine to worry that he may have already missed his chance with Kurt.

On the way out of practice, Blaine rushed to catch up with Kurt. "Hey, how're you holding up?" Kurt shrugged in response, so he prodded a little bit more. "Do you want to go get a coffee?"

Kurt shook his head. "No…today's just been a really tough day. I think I need to be alone, you know?" Blaine nodded, wishing his heart didn't ache so much at the rejection.

"Did you bury him?" Blaine wasn't ready to just let Kurt walk away, and to his relief, Kurt finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Not yet. I'm working on a casket… and I don't quite know where to bury him, yet."

"Well, let me know when you do. I'd like to be there." Kurt gave Blaine a soft, sad smile, searching his eyes and finding only sincerity.

"Thank you, Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow." The smile was enough for Blaine—enough to set his heart skipping with hope. Hope for tomorrow. _God, I have a lot to figure out tonight!_ He watched Kurt's figure recede down the hall and turn toward the main entrance, and hoped he would figure out how to be worthy of this amazing person who had become his best friend.


	4. Chapter 4: Duo

**Thank you for your great patience, dear readers! This chapter took for-freaking-ever! I hope you enjoy it!**

**I don't own Glee or any of it's characters, alas.**

* * *

Blaine sat in his bed at one in the morning, losing sleep over Kurt Hummel, yet again. He knew what he wanted to communicate to Kurt—_I've been an idiot for the last month; you were right about all my solos; I think I'm in love with you. _That last one probably needed amending. He didn't have the guts to speak the "L" word out loud, yet, even though it had been running through his mind on endless loop all evening. But as for the other sentiments, Blaine knew that he needed to do more than just _tell_ Kurt he was right or admit that he'd been an idiot chasing after other people when Kurt was right there. He needed to show Kurt how he felt. He needed to demonstrate that he really did listen to Kurt's criticism.

And in order to do that, Blaine really needed to confront all the Warblers. He needed to challenge their assumption that he could carry all the solos at every performance—convince them to give other people a shot. And to make everything just as complicated as it could possibly be, he decided this needed to happen now—just days before Regionals.

Sure, he considered waiting until after, but three things stopped him. First, he honestly didn't want to wait that long to take action on his new feelings for Kurt. Then he realized that without the significance of the Regionals competition, any chivalrous gesture toward sharing leads would seem a little empty—devoid of meaning. _Yeah, I think other people should get solos, you know, now that the pressure's off and it doesn't matter anymore. _And that's when Blaine began to realize that maybe it was really in the Warblers' best interest to diversify before Regionals—they just barely tied with New Directions at Sectionals, and they needed to bring every asset to the table if they were going to win this round. That included—it had to include—a voice as singular as Kurt's

No suggestion of change would go over well with the Warblers Council—Blaine knew that. They liked to play it safe, especially for competitions. As much as Wes and David loved him, Blaine knew they would never agree to giving Kurt a solo lead at Regionals just because Blaine wanted to do the boy a favor. No, he needed to convince the whole group that they really needed another lead voice in the mix in order to win.

He could suggest that Kurt just sing "Blackbird" for the show, but he suspected that the Council would not go for giving away a solo like that—it was too risky to give a solo lead to anyone who had not sung solo in a competition before, and thanks to Blaine's inadvertent spot-light hogging, he was the only one who fit that bill. The only solution would be a duet. Blaine smiled at that thought—_a duet with Kurt… our voices do sound fantastic together… I'd get to sing to Kurt on stage… and all that practicing! It would be a perfect excuse to spend time alone with him._

Blaine grabbed his ipod from the dresser and began scanning it for songs that might work. If he was going to convince the Warblers to let him and Kurt do a duet together, he needed to have some good song suggestions up his sleeves…

* * *

_Blah, blah, blah dee blah blah…_These Warblers meetings (_Nix that—Blaine-worship ceremonies_) got old real fast, and Kurt fought to keep from nodding off out of sheer boredom. _Blah dee blah, Blaine's the bestest…Blah blah blah, did you just dare insult the mighty Blaine? Shocked and offended…Blah… Blah… Blah)_

"No, I'm tired of the Warblers being all about me!" Blaine's words cut through Kurt's bleary stupor, and for a split second Kurt wondered whether he was dreaming. "David, please make sure everything I'm about to say goes down in the minutes." _Yikes, I'm in trouble if I'm dreaming Robert's Rules!_ Kurt turned to watch Blaine more closely.

"We are going to lose at Regionals." Kurt couldn't begin to fathom what Blaine was up to, but he'd succeeded in getting everyone's attention. "I am incredibly grateful for the belief you've all given me as a Junior member to lead you in all of these wonderful songs this year…" _Oh…oh my…is this about my snarky comments the other day?_ As Blaine glanced quickly, and maybe even a little nervously toward Kurt, the suspicion seemed confirmed. "…but from what Kurt has told me about New Directions, I just know I can't beat them on my own."

Kurt felt torn between amazement that Blaine took his words to heart and fear that the rest of the Warblers would execute him for planting seeds of insecurity in their lead singer's heart the week before Regionals. He glanced around the room, half expecting to see dirty looks cast his way. His eyes flicked back to Blaine just in time to catch Blaine looking at him as he presented his idea.

"…which is why I propose that we rearrange our eleven-o'clock number, and turn it into a duet..." Loud sounds of protest and disbelief interrupted Blaine, so that he had to raise his voice to finish making his point. "…to showcase other talent in the group!"

_Wow._ Kurt could barely articulate his thoughts even to himself. Blaine was fighting to relinquish his solos and share the spotlight—suggesting the risk of completely changing one of their Regionals numbers to include a new voice—and all because he really listened to Kurt's criticism in the hall the other day. Even if none of the Warblers went for it—even if the Warblers never changed, Kurt was flattered and a little stunned that Blaine had changed. _It kind of feels like Blaine is changing _for me_. Is that crazy_?

When Wes called for a vote, Kurt raised his hand along with most of the Warblers in the room. _Really? This is happening?_ Before the hands were down, Kurt caught Wes's eye and requested a spot on the audition schedule. _A shot at singing a duet at Regionals! Be still my heart!_ But before Wes could respond, Blaine interrupted the moment.

"No! No auditions." _What the hell? _Kurt tried to contain his irritation as he looked up at Blaine. _No way are you going to rob me of this oppor… _Kurt's thoughts came to a screeching halt as Blaine finished his protest. "I want to sing the duet with Kurt."

As Blaine gazed down at him, looking pleased as punch, Kurt tried to regain his grip on reality. _This cannot be happening! Am I dreaming, after all? Did Blaine just insist that I sing a duet with him at Regionals?_ His voice stuck in his throat for a moment before he began protesting this special treatment. _As much as I want—desperately want—to sing this duet (and with Blaine!), I don't want the rest of the Warblers to resent me for it! _Before he could grasp what exactly was going on, Blaine called for a vote and Kurt saw every hand in the whole room—including the three members of Council—raised in agreement. Kurt was singing a duet with Blaine at Regionals!

His heart thumped so loudly in his chest that Kurt barely heard all the congratulations, barely registered all the pats on the back, but he did see the glowing smile on Blaine's face as he clapped, and _Oh God, did Blaine just wink at me? _Kurt missed the rest of the meeting, only vaguely hearing Blaine offer to research possible duets and bring a selection to Council the next day. Normally Kurt would have been offended that Blaine assumed he could pick out their duet by himself, but he was in such shock that he honestly didn't care.

As he drove home after the meeting, all Kurt could remember was Blaine—that smile and _it was a wink, wasn't it?_, the sincerity in his voice, and his parting grin when he promised Kurt they would find a time to practice tomorrow. _What just happened? _Kurt wondered if this was what it felt like to swoon.

* * *

During his free period, Kurt found an empty lounge and set out all of his bird-casket decorating supplies. He felt woefully behind on burying Pavarotti, but the tiny wooden box had required two layers of black paint to meet Kurt's approval, and today was the first day it was dry enough to start gluing on the details. He pulled out the wooden box, opened his tiered storage container, and uncapped the glue, grateful for something to do with his hands.

He'd expected Blaine to meet him on his way out of his last class and suggest practicing, since they shared a free period, but there was no sign of Blaine, and Kurt knew he needed a distraction—something to keep him from worrying about what duet Blaine would pick and how he would possibly make it through a duet with this boy who kept sending him on an emotional rollercoaster. He worked so intently that he didn't notice the soft tap of Blaine's feet approaching.

Blaine slowed his pace as he approached the open door to the lounge. _Here he is! _Blaine spent the moments before Kurt noticed him drinking in the sight of the other boy—the sweep of his hair up from his forehead, the arch of his eyebrows, the flutter of his eyelashes as he looked intently at something on the table, his steady, elegant hands busy with some task. _He looks stunning when he's focused._ "What's that?" Blaine finally asked, announcing his presence.

Kurt looked up, _Ah, there he is. Guess we're practicing after all_. "I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket." Kurt surveyed his progress with a measure of satisfaction. It was not close to being finished, but it was well on the way.

He looked back up when Blaine said, with a smile in his voice, "Well, finish up. I have the perfect song for our number, and we should practice." Kurt did not miss the eager energy in Blaine's voice. For some reason it caused his temperature to rise.

"Do tell," Kurt prodded, fighting his own anxiety. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of—he had a versatile voice; it was highly unlikely that Blaine would pick something that he couldn't sing well. Maybe he was just worried about more mixed signals, more songs with innuendo that Blaine could easily ignore, but he couldn't.

"'Candles,' by Hey Monday." Kurt could have sworn that Blaine gulped a little as he announced the selection. _Is he nervous that I won't approve?_

Blaine relaxed slightly, as Kurt responded with a wide grin. "I'm impressed. You're usually so Top 40." _Here it goes! _He tried to psyche himself up, as he admitted that he went looking for an emotional song. He knew that was vague, and Kurt probably wouldn't pick up on the hint, but he needed to start small—start with small hints and work up the nerve to lay it all on the line. He pulled out a chair and sat down, realizing that he was in no rush to end this conversation, even if they did have a duet to practice.

_Emotional?_ Kurt ran through the lyrics to "Candles," trying to figure out what kind of emotions Blaine was trying to convey, here. "Candles," was a break-up song, wasn't it? A song about being strong and moving on…_Is he trying to tell me something?_ Kurt realized there was a question he needed Blaine to answer before he could sing this song with him.

"Why did you pick me to sing that song with?" The quiet determination on Kurt's face took Blaine's breath away. _Wow. This is happening…now!_ Blaine had assumed that this conversation would come up eventually—maybe after they ran through the lyrics for the first time and Blaine got to sing those words—"you'll get back everything you gave me,"—like a promise. But no—it was happening now. He finally had to close his eyes to compose himself.

Kurt saw waves of emotion passing over Blaine in that moment of silence, and knew a confession of some sort was coming. A tired, bitter voice in the back of his head said, _Okay, lover boy—who is it this time? Who am I helping you serenade?_ Kurt gagged that internal voice of cynicism in order to listen to Blaine's voice when he finally began speaking again.

"Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are! I've been looking for you forever.'" Kurt had never seen Blaine so flustered. He kept pausing and stumbling over his words, closing his eyes as if having them open was too much. _Why is he so scared of looking at me?_ Kurt worried.

Blaine paused in his confession, searching Kurt's face for any sign of comprehension—anything that might indicate that his feelings would be reciprocated, but he saw nothing—just a blank, stunned, noncommittal gaze. _God, this is harder than I thought it would be!_ He shifted forward in his chair, and made the decision to reach out and place his hand over Kurt's—maybe that contact would communicate what his words couldn't.

"Watching you do 'Blackbird' this week, that was a moment for me…" Kurt was trying so hard to follow Blaine, and when Blaine's hand landed on top of his own, he felt his heart begin to race. _Is this…Is he saying…_ Kurt couldn't even bring himself to speculate what kind of "moment" Blaine meant, and then he said it—"…about you." _Oh. Oh. Wait, what kind of moment about me?_ Kurt blinked as his mind raced to keep pace with his heart.

Blaine still couldn't read Kurt's face. If anything, it just looked a little more stunned—a little bit more like a deer caught in the headlights. He fumbled after more words—something that would make it clear. He felt his mouth begin to wrap around the words _"I love you," _and he caught himself, seeking some less intense alternative. "You move me, Kurt, and this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you."

Kurt's heart took hold of his reeling mind and helped it stagger toward the truth. _Blaine likes me. This can't be happening. How is this happening?_

The flush on Kurt's cheeks and the sheer joy in his eyes communicated everything Blaine was waiting for. Without wasting another breath, he began to move forward, resting one hand on Kurt's knee for support and reaching the other out to hold Kurt's cheek while he leaned in to kiss him.

Kurt's mind went completely blank as he saw Blaine's intent-looking face approaching. He operated on pure instinct as he tilted his head slightly to capture Blaine's lips right before he closed his eyes and forgot how to breathe, too.

Blaine's senses filled with the scent and the feel and the taste of Kurt. He hadn't been planning to kiss Kurt, yet, and he was overwhelmed with the energy—the crackling, tingling energy generated by Kurt's lips on his. For a split second he noticed that Kurt didn't not seem to be responding, _This is too fast—too much—I blew it!_ but he didn't even have time to pull away before Kurt drew in a deep breath, raised a hand to his jaw and held him closer, beginning to move his lips and mouth in an unspoken reply. _Oh, thank God…_

It took Kurt a full five seconds to process what was going on. _Blaine is kissing me…this feels amazing! Kiss him back! Hell, yeah, I'm kissing Blaine! Wait, where are you going? _Blaine pulled away just as Kurt began to accept what was happening—just as he regained enough conscious thought to be able to participate. As he watched those achingly familiar lips retreat—lips he'd fantasized about for months—lips he finally felt against his own!—as he watched them recede until he could focus again on face in which they were set—_Blaine's face_—Kurt heard his own hand drop onto the table, as if his whole body was paralyzed with shock.

Blaine gazed at the flushed, breathless face of the boy he was beginning to love, amazed that the beautiful look of awe on Kurt's face was his own doing. He fell back into his chair, mind whirring._ Wow, that was hot! Shit, this is happening fast. I could seriously do that all day._ He blushed at his own thoughts and tried to regain some sense of equilibrium. "We—um—we should practice." Practice—another whole hour in the company of this amazing person! _Today is my favorite day ever!_

Kurt watched a goofy, love-struck grin spread over Blaine's face, and thrilled to know that it was because of him_. He's blushing! Blaine is blushing because he kissed me! He's grinning like an idiot because he enjoyed kissing me! What the hell is happening?_ _Practice? Practice what? I want to practice this!_ "I thought we were." Kurt suspected there to be a goofy, love-struck grin plastered on his own face, this time

_God, the breathiness of that voice!_ Blaine was up and out of his chair in a heartbeat, and this time, Kurt was ready—was meeting his kiss with a passion Blaine never expected. He felt Kurt's hand run up his cheek, into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned at the sensation, which must have had an effect on Kurt, because suddenly he was kissing with even more force, and desperation, opening his lips more and grazing his teeth on Blaine's lower lip. _How have I lived without this?_ Blaine wondered, opening his eyes to gaze at Kurt's brow bone and fluttering eyelids, running his hand down from Kurt's cheek to his jaw bone, up the jaw to the soft, fleshy spot directly beneath his ear, down his neck to his collar, across his collar until finally he pulled slightly on Kurt's tie, bringing him even closer. He pulled away just long enough to whisper, "I'm so sorry."

Kurt's brows furrowed, and he pulled back from the next kiss. "Sorry for what?" _Please, please don't say that this was a mistake. This is not a mistake—this is the most right we've ever been._ He felt slightly reassured by the fact that Blaine insisted on kissing him again, and gave his answer in short bursts between long kisses.

"Sorry I…took so long….Sorry I was…an idiot….Sorry I…hurt you." Kurt smiled into this last kiss and then pulled back, looking Blaine in the eye. "I think you're beginning to make up for it."

_Is Kurt flirting with me? _Blaine rushed back for another kiss, holding Kurt's face with both hands, this time. Blaine was just beginning to wonder how long he could sustain this bent-over position—not wanting to end the kissing, but also thinking it was probably too soon to climb right into Kurt's lap—when Kurt pulled back, again.

"Speaking of that, though…why now, exactly?" Blaine stood straight and ran a hand through the side of his hair. _Didn't I already explain that?_ He wasn't sure he knew what Kurt was asking for. _Is he mad at me? Is this too much, too fast?_

Kurt knew it was a strange question to ask, and part of him wanted to just shove all his doubts and insecurities aside and revel in the feel of Blaine's mouth on his. But it had been months—_freaking months!_ –of pining and dreaming and feeling let down and having dreams dashed. Blaine had recovered from his crush on Jeremiah almost overnight, and had lost interest in Rachel as quickly as he'd become interested in the first place. _Is this just another 48 hour infatuation?_ Kurt hoped this was different—hoped Blaine's feelings for him were more substantial. Maybe understanding how Blaine go here—maybe that would help.

Blaine started to sit down in his chair when Kurt jumped up and grabbed his hand. "No, let's sit on the couch. When I kiss you next, I want us both to be more comfortable." Kurt looked back at Blaine with an arched eyebrow. _When I kiss you…_ That settled some of Blaine's concerns, and he felt a flush spread over his face, along with an uncontrollable grin. He looked up at Kurt's equally flushed face and decided he definitely like this confident, in-charge side of Kurt. _Crap, I've been missing out on so much!_

They setting onto the couch, and Kurt kept hold of Blaine's hand, so that even though they weren't facing each other directly, Blaine felt like they were connected. He ran Kurt's question back through his mind. _"Why now?"_ He still wasn't sure what Kurt was asking. Fortunately, it seemed that Kurt could read his mind, because he clarified without Blaine asking.

"Okay, you did say that when I sang "Blackbird," you had a moment, but what was it? I'm assuming my tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes were not what did it for you…" Kurt's playful tone helped Blaine relax even more, but as he thought back to his moment of revelation, it occurred to Blaine that there was not a quick, easy answer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before turning to look Kurt in the eyes. _Oh, those eyes!_

"I guess it was kind of a realization that I'd stuck you in a box—a box covered with stamps that said, 'Fragile, handle with care.' Somehow I convinced myself that you needed me as a mentor—to protect you and help you and I kind of felt like you needed me to be strong and perfect—that you wouldn't be able to handle it if you saw my flaws," Blaine realized his eyes were closed again, as he struggled to find the right words. _I'm bumbling like an idiot_, he thought, but when he forced himself to open his eyes again, he saw Kurt gazing back at him with understanding.

Kurt did understand. He thought back to his argument with Blaine over the whole Rachel incident. _I sure didn't handle Blaine's flaws well that day…no wonder he thought I needed him to be perfect._ He kicked himself, internally, but stayed quiet as Blaine continued. "Anyway, I think you really started to punch out of that box when you told me how you felt about me getting all the solos."

Kurt cringed a little. _How is this related to Blaine realizing he likes me? It feels like he's exposing all the ways I've been a bitch to him!_ Blaine continued, oblivious to Kurt's internal turmoil. "At first I didn't want to hear it—I thought you were being kind of petty, but when you sang 'Blackbird,' it hit me how right you were. I may not have asked for all those solos, but I didn't turn them down. I was perfectly happy letting the Warblers revolve around me, and meanwhile we were missing out on your amazing voice," Blaine looked up, pleased to see Kurt blushing again.

Kurt was not blushing because of the compliment to his voice. He blushed to think that Blaine took his bitter, frustrated rant to heart. But he still couldn't figure out how this led to Blaine kissing him. He looked up at Blaine with a question in his eyes, and Blaine knew he needed to continue.

"And that's when the moment happened. I looked up, and it was like I saw you without that stupid, made-up box around you. I saw that you weren't fragile at all, and you didn't need me to fix everything for you, you didn't need me to be perfect…you were doing exactly what you needed to do for Pavarotti. And," Blaine faltered, wondering if he had the courage to say what he was really feeling. The firm pressure of Kurt's hand still holding his own helped him find the strength. "I finally saw _you_ standing there—the living embodiment of strength and beauty and loyalty and courage—everything I've ever looked for. I always wanted to be with someone who could help me be the best version of myself, and I realized that you—you're already helping me do that…Does that sound stupid?"

Blaine looked up, waiting to hear Kurt's response, and instead found Kurt's lips pressed against his, and Kurt's hands holding him by the nape of the neck. Blaine smiled into the kiss, and murmured, "Good answer?"

Kurt nodded and smiled back, _Perfect answer_ he thought, and deepened the kiss, parting his lips slightly to suck on Blaine's lower lip again. He was so caught up in Blaine—the scent of his aftershave, the feel of his hair curling just slightly at the nape of his neck, his soft hums and moans of pleasure—that Kurt didn't even notice when his tongue made contact with Blaine's lip.

Blaine noticed, though. _Gah!...tongue. Kurt's tongue. My mouth._ His eyes flew open in surprise. Kurt didn't seem to feel the same jolt of electricity Blaine just felt, but the sensation gave Blaine all the courage he needed to reciprocate. He ran his tongue slowly, gently along the inside of Kurt's upper lip, keeping his eyes open to gauge Kurt's reaction. Sure enough, Kurt's eyes fluttered open in surprise.

_Blaine just licked me! _Kurt met Blaine's eyes and saw amusement there, and maybe a bit of a challenge. But he also saw hunger—a slow-burning desire that kindled a passion that Kurt didn't know he had in him. _Oh yeah? That how you want it, huh? _He maintained eye-contact with Blaine as he opened his mouth wider and sought out Blaine's tongue with his own. He grinned with satisfaction when Blaine's eyes widened and then rolled back in his head with a moan.

Blaine could feel himself melting into an incoherent puddle. _How the hell is Kurt so good at this?_ He couldn't help wondering what else Kurt might be surprisingly good at, _but honestly, _he thought_, this kissing is amazing—we could just do this forever, and I'd be perfectly happy._ Operating on sheer instinct, he placed one hand on Kurt's hip, and wrapped the other around his waist so that he could place a hand right between Kurt's shoulder blades and hold him close.

Something about Blaine's hand pressing firmly in the center of Kurt's back flicked a switch, and Kurt found himself overwhelmed with a compulsive desire to test one of his fantasies. _I wonder… _With no thought, only heat and energy and pleasure and wicked curiosity, Kurt's fingers pulled on Blaine's tie, loosening it enough for his nimble fingers to begin unbuttoning the crisp white shirt.

Blaine was so caught up in the passion of their kiss—the sweeping of tongues, the pressing of soft, wet lips, the grazing of teeth against sensitive skin—that he didn't notice what Kurt's hands were doing until long, soft fingers slid under his shirt. _How did that happen?_ His breath hitched when Kurt's fingers brushed over one of his nipples, and he felt his hips buck in response. _Holy hell, what is he doing to me?_

"Kurt, wait!" Blaine gasped and pulled away, looking down to discover his Dalton-issue shirt half-unbuttoned. Kurt blushed bright red as he realized where his hand was. He pulled back, apologizing. Blaine grabbed his hand, "No, don't…I mean, that was, um…really hot," It was Blaine's turn to blush, "but we're at school!" Kurt let out a choked laugh, glancing nervously out the lounge's open door into the empty hallway. "Oh yeah. School…" He looked back at Blaine with an impish grin, and began rebuttoning the boy's open shirt.

"Where did that come from, anyway?" Blaine watched Kurt with fascination. _Seriously, is this the same kid who claimed that the touch of finger tips was as sexy as he needed things to get? _

Kurt looked up at Blaine through his lashes, trying to decide how much to share. _Am I a freak? Will he be totally turned off?_ He took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "Well, I wasn't really thinking about it, but it probably has to do with the fact that a lot of my, um…day-dreams…involve chest hair. So, I was testing—checking to see if my assumptions were right."

Blaine's eyes glazed over. _Kurt has fantasies—multiple fantasies—involving my bare chest. _He gulped and looked up at Kurt, as Kurt finished buttoning the top button and began to tighten his tie. "And…?" Kurt blushed again, and nodded. "Just right," he whispered, causing Blaine to flush from more than just embarrassment. _God, I'm not going to be able to trust myself to be alone with this boy…_

"Wow," Blaine sighed and leaned back into the couch. _Wow, wow, wow, wow…_ He looked over at Kurt, who was also leaning back on the couch, with a giddy grin spread over his face. "Well, we have about twenty minutes left in this free period. We probably should practice the song, too."

Kurt sighed, feeling like his whole body was wrapped in a warm, floaty happiness. "Yeah, probably." _Candles…why did Blaine pick that song again?_ "Hey, why 'Candles,'" he asked, leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine grinned at his boyfriend leaning on his shoulder. _Wait, we are boyfriends, now, right? I'll need to check_. "Well, it just kind of said everything I wanted to say to you." He felt Kurt tense a little and look up at him.

"You know it's a break up song, right?"

"A what?" Blaine ran through the lyrics quickly in his head. _Oh, "Blow the candles out…solo tonight…" Oh, crap._ "Oh, I guess so." He looked down and caught an amused look pass over Kurt's face. "I was kind of more focused on the lines like, 'I'm beginning to see the light,' 'I didn't see when it was you and me,' and I especially liked the one, 'one day you'll get back everything you gave me.'" _Which I now realize is probably a bitter line about returning gifts…crap!_ "I kind of thought of it as finally reciprocating all the feelings you've had." Blaine could feel Kurt giggling.

"Hey, it wasn't easy finding the right song! I knew I wanted to let you know how I was feeling, but I needed to find something deeper than 'I wanna see your peacock,'" Blaine was pleased to hear Kurt laugh out loud at this suggestion. "And I needed something more subtle than 'I will always love you,' which I was pretty sure would just freak you out."

Kurt flushed at the implications of this song, but quickly recovered and tilted his head up to whisper in Blaine's ear, "Also a break-up song…"

"Crap!" Blaine laughed along with Kurt. "I really suck at this, don't I?" Kurt nodded, practically crying, he was laughing so hard. He felt oddly relieved to know that Blaine was still oblivious about something. "Look, we can pick a different song, if you want. We just have to practice it before Warblers rehearsal this afternoon."

Kurt gathered himself, gasping for breath. "No, no, Blaine. I like 'Candles.' And I think it's sweet that you picked it for me. We can make it mean whatever we want." Kurt sat straight and looked Blaine in the eye. _How did I get so lucky? _he wondered, and leaned in to kiss Blaine on the cheek. "Now, why don't you go get the sheet music while I clean up my art supplies? I'll meet you in the Warbler's hall in five minutes?"

Blaine grinned as Kurt stood and walked back to the table. _Wow. How did I miss out on this for so many months? _He stood and started for the door, stopping part way. "Hey, Kurt, are we boyfriends, now?" Kurt looked up with a sparkle in his eyes, "God, I hope so!" _Awesome!_ Blaine launched toward Kurt, and gave him a quick peck on those soft lips before turning on his heel and bounding down the hall to retrieve the sheet music.

Kurt collapsed into his chair. _I have a boyfriend. Blaine is my boyfriend! _He giggled quietly picking up the last of the gems and packing all his supplies away in his bag. _This is what if feels like to swoon!_

* * *

**So, I'm not entirely sure where to go for the next chapter. Should I jump straight to Regionals, like the episode does? If you have any brilliant ideas, let me know!**


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